


of all the things my hands have held the best by far is you

by MaximillianDelirium



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M, Oneshot, completely ignoring HoO, connico
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5741923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaximillianDelirium/pseuds/MaximillianDelirium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor steals things from Nico. Nico wonders what he really wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of all the things my hands have held the best by far is you

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not really sorry about this whatsoever

Connor is a thief. He takes the things that Nico least expects, the random objects in his jacket pockets. He does it so fast that Nico hardly realizes. Usually he finds out a day later, when he sees Connor juggling the Coke bottle caps he’s been passively collecting. Why Connor takes these things and not his money is a mystery that Nico cannot solve. Nico always thought he was most the enigmatic thing at Camp Half-Blood, but the younger Stoll is more terrifying by far.

He’s an abstraction, a jack of all trades, a distant figure from a simpler time. The boy who first handed Nico his oversized war helmet and led him across the whitened ground to throw snowballs at Ares cabin. Nico worries that Connor has stolen that happiness as well. He’s infected those memories with his presence. Connor still has his cards, too, hidden in a shoebox under his bunk.

“Throw them out,” Nico commands.

“I couldn’t. They’re yours.” He holds the box out to Nico.

The son of Hades refuses. He won’t touch them again. Yet the thought of Connor owning this part of him — and being so indifferent about it, they’re not even held together with rubber bands for the gods’ sakes — makes him shiver for reasons that appear muddy grey in Nico’s consciousness.

Why does he keep returning the things he steals? Because they have no value? Why does he do it in the first place? It must be a compulsion. An illness that the sons of Hermes contract when they hit a certain age. But it’s only Nico and his useless, meaningless, worthless objects.

Connor gives them back as soon as Nico notices they’re gone. Every time, he takes Nico by the hand and presses whatever it is into his palm. Nico might not like to be touched but these moments leave him starved for contact, for the warmth of another living person. He starts hoping Connor will steal his hands next and never return them. He kicks himself for even imagining such a thing.

On the Fourth of July, while everyone is watching the fireworks, Connor opens up Nico’s fingers and drops in the loose change that went missing earlier that week. Nico watches him leave for longer than usual, then lets the coins fall into the sand. The surrounding demigods cheer as colorful explosions light up the sky, fiery dragons and images of nymphs cartwheeling above their heads. Nico turns away from it all. The brightness hurts his eyes.

He tracks Connor down later, right to the door of Hermes cabin. Everyone else is still on the beach. Tonight is the one night to ignore curfew. Anyone who has someone won’t be coming back for some time. Connor looks different next to his cabin in the dark. Like a grown-up. Almost sad. His eyes brighten when he sees Nico coming.

“Calling it a night?” Connor asks.

Nico nods. He stops in front of Hermes cabin. He remembers coming here a long time ago, sleeping on the floor in between sleeping bags. It’s a lot emptier now. None of the other Hermes kids are there now, not even Travis.

“Stop taking things from me.”

“I was wondering when you were going to bring that up.”

Nico scowls. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to do. It’s not like you’re selling my stuff on eBay.”

“My secret plans are less complex than you think they are.”

He has no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Connor’s face isn’t helping either. He smirks at Nico, his sharp eyebrows arching toward his hairline. No one will admit it out loud, but the Stolls are attractive. Nico tries to ignore it. He can’t let Connor distract him.

“Are you going to stop?” he says.

Connor shrugs. “I don’t have the thing I really want yet.”

What is it that Nico might have that Connor would care enough to steal? Hades is supposed to be the god of riches, but Nico has no access that to that aspect of his parentage. Only death.

“What’s that?” Nico asks flatly.

He keeps smirking. This must be infinitely amusing to him. Nico wants to punch him in the nose. It wouldn’t be half as satisfying as imagining it though. He waits for an answer. He’s going to end this game of tag right here and now. Nico is good at silence and he will drag Connor’s responses out, kicking and screaming.

Connor gestures for him to come forward. Nico shakes his head. Connor laughs and says, “I don’t bite. Come here.”

Nico reluctantly creeps closer. He stops a foot away and even with that the proximity is too much. Connor rests his hands on the doorframe, his body curled slightly forward, towards Nico. Nico’s mind drifts to all the times their fingers and shoulders brushed inadvertently. What would it be like if Connor touched him with purpose?

“Maybe,” Connor says, so low in his throat that Nico has to strain to hear, “what I really wanted was your attention.”

“That’s it?” Nico’s tongue is thick. He can barely talk. Connor, snatching things from his pockets and returning them because he wanted Nico to notice. Connor, keeping his Mythomagic cards tucked under the bed for a boy who didn’t exist anymore. This isn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. Connor was supposed to laugh and admit to an elaborate prank. Not change the game all of a sudden.

“Maybe I want more but I’m not allowed to have it.”

“Then why don’t you steal it?” Nico asks, only half aware that he’s goading him. He’s in shock. The things Connor is telling him don’t make sense. There’s no way Connor will rise to his taunts. “You’re a thief,” he adds.

He doesn’t miss the way Connor’s eyes drift to his lips. Connor is so obvious that he must doing it on purpose. Do it, Nico thinks. I dare you to try it.

Connor exhales. “Some things aren’t meant be taken like that. They’re supposed to be given.”

Nico shouldn’t feel disappointed. He should be relieved. Now he feels stupid for taking it this far, like a child. It’s the first time Connor has ever made him feel this way. He takes a step back as blood rushes to his ears.

“C-can I have my cards back?” he says.

Connor nods and retrieves the shoebox. He doesn’t ask why Nico has suddenly changed his mind. As the box changes hands, they don’t touch. For once it’s frustrating. The one time Nico wants contact, Connor won’t give it, and his whole body and his mind are betraying him. He needs to know.

“Some of them are bent,” Connor says by way of apology.

It means nothing to him anymore. They’re as inconsequential as the coins he left on the beach. He wants to burn them all. Still, he says, “Thanks for holding onto them.”

“No problem.”

“I…” There’s no way to vocalize what he needs, what he wants, without getting embarrassed. He wants to tell him, you got my attention. He wants to say, I’ve been thinking about you nonstop for the past few days. He should tell him, you’ve always been in my peripherals and I was stupid not to realize that you were there all along, for not saying what I mean.

Connor touches Nico’s wrist, his fingers circling around to hover over his pulse point. “If I did something really selfish,” he says, “would you forgive me tomorrow? And not hit me?”

“I can’t make any promises.”

Connor smiles at him. Not a smirk this time. A genuine smile.

He takes both of Nico’s wrists and kisses him. It’s warm and odd and not how Nico imagined kisses on the mouth. And it’s good. It’s very, very good. Connor kisses gently. There’s a lingering taste of sweetness from the barbecue earlier.

He says something dumb when their lips part. “Oh.”

“Was that okay?” Connor releases him, but he stays close, his nose inches from Nico’s.

“Yeah.” Nico resists the urge to touch his lips. They feel different now. He can’t focus on Connor’s eyes without wanting to laugh, so he looks at the collar of his t-shirt. Connor has lots of beads on his camp necklace. There are beads that even Percy doesn’t have.

“One more.”

Nico drops the box of cards. It thumps at their feet. He grabs a handful of Connor’s shirt, tugging on the collar as he leans forward. Connor has to steady him by the shoulders. Light touches. He slides up to Nico’s jaw, holds him there for another few moments, then separates them again.

They stand on Hermes cabin’s front step with their foreheads together. Nico eventually pulls himself away. He gathers the shoebox. He’s unsure of where they stand now, exactly, but those are questions for later. For now, he says, “The next time you steal from me, don’t expect me to kiss you.”

Connor rubs his thumb across his lower lip. “I don’t have to anymore.”

Nico stares at him a second longer, then turns in the direction of his own cabin. As soon as he’s out of sight, he touches his own mouth and revels in the feeling of being desired.


End file.
